


Card Games

by CantStopImagining



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6236503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantStopImagining/pseuds/CantStopImagining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve not been caught yet, and that’s sort of made it all the more thrilling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Card Games

It's late by the time they go back to Delia’s room. Patsy does her usual fumbling around trying to find an excuse not to, when they both know she’s going to. A night cap, Delia suggests, a glint of darkness in her eyes, giving away her real intention. To her credit, she rarely outrightly says what she’s thinking, but Patsy’s learnt to read her like a book, and it makes her cheeks flush a deep red anyway. She knows she ought to just say no. It’s too risky here, in Nonnatus, with nuns sleeping only a thin wall away, and Trixie alone in her bedroom waiting. It isn’t like having their own flat. But Patsy has never been good at saying no to her.

They ease the handle of the door open and Patsy tries to be blasé about it, tries not to let Delia see her check behind her (even if it is only for a second). The assortment of bottles that used to live in the room she shares with Trixie have been moved through to here, and Delia pours her the promised night cap without asking what she fancies. She only takes a sip of whisky before setting it down at the side of the bed. There’s no reason to beat about the bush.

They’ve done this so many times now. Patsy knows she wasn’t good at it to begin with, that Delia had spent more time guiding her hands to the right places and explaining things to her in hushed tones than she cares to admit to. Delia has always been more confident. Patsy’s always too busy telling her to quiet down to concentrate, not wanting them to get caught, or Trixie to feel left out. She knows Delia can’t help it, she just gets carried away in the moment, but she can be awfully loud.

They’ve got better, though. Her skill’s improved, and Delia has become better at biting her lip, stopping herself from exclaiming. They’ve not been caught yet, and that’s sort of made it all the more thrilling.

“Pats,” Delia whispers, her voice low and husky, “don't put that there.”

Patsy’s face flushes, as she shakily moves her hand away again, feeling stupid. She’d thought she was doing well - Delia seemed to be enjoying it too. But now she realises her mistake.

“This is very hard when you’re sleep deprived,” Patsy groans, “if only the babies of Poplar understood the importance of our late night activities.”

Delia can’t help but laugh at that, sliding her hand over Patsy’s and squeezing it, “it’s okay, you’ll get the hang of it. Maybe we should… continue this another day?”

Shaking her head, Patsy fixes her jaw with determination, “no, I want to do this now. It’s such a rarity that we get the time together and with nobody to interrupt…”

“We could switch to something easier?” Delia whispers, again, tracing her fingers over a bare slip of skin on Patsy’s side, “there’s lots of ways we haven’t tried?”

Patsy smiles at her, her eyelids drooping sleepily, “maybe you’re right,” she says, allowing Delia to kiss her gently, “you won’t think I’m frightfully unadventurous though?”

The light that sparks in Delia’s eyes is enough of an answer for her, but she mouths “never” anyway, lazily kissing along Patsy’s shoulder, loosening tight muscles she finds there.

Patsy lets out a sigh of frustration.

“I’m not sure rummy’s my game. Perhaps we ought to go back to Go Fish?”

Delia unwraps herself from around her love and nods, reaching for the pack of cards and reshuffling them, “Go Fish it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe not what you were expecting but I hope you enjoyed anyway!!! This was all done in good humour!


End file.
